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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27659105">Trading Yesterday</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/archersandsunsets/pseuds/archersandsunsets'>archersandsunsets</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hunger Games Series - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 21:47:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,938</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27659105</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/archersandsunsets/pseuds/archersandsunsets</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>I should have seen it coming. The rumors were all there. "Did you hear about the baker?"</p>
<p>In which Katniss and Peeta are not reaped for the 74th Hunger Games, but tragedy still brings them together.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>87</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Trading Yesterday</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I should have seen it coming.</p>
<p>The rumors were all there.</p>
<p>“Did you hear about the baker?”</p>
<p>The Hob was always buzzing with gossip, and while I usually didn’t partake in it, I couldn’t help but listen in as one of the suppliers conversed with a customer over a stall.</p>
<p>“I heard he hasn't ran the front counter in almost a week…” the supplier of yarn and thread said, fumbling with a thimble on her thumb.</p>
<p>“Do you think something's wrong?”</p>
<p>“Well, rumor has it that the older Mellark boy is to take over the business…”</p>
<p>“—Here you go, dearie.” I looked up as Greasy Sae set a bowl of the stew she’d cooked up that day in front of me.</p>
<p>“Thank you,” I replied. I tried to focus back in as I took the bowl and leaned my hip against the counter.</p>
<p>
  <em>What could be wrong with the baker?</em>
</p>
<p>Meanwhile I ate small spoons of the hearty soup, full of broth and the meats Sae had procured in her day of trading. Today it was thin, but still good.</p>
<p>“I heard that Jerome’s eldest is engaged to be married to the shoemaker's daughter…”</p>
<p>“Yeah?” I heard the supplier ask. “I heard it was the grocer’s girl.”</p>
<p>“Well, at least we know it isn't someone Seam… Idalia would never allow it!”</p>
<p>“You have a point there…” They trailed off, saying what a shame it was, and I shook my head at them, resisting the urge to scoff.</p>
<p><em>Of course that’s why they care.</em> It was about the money and the looks, the same as most of the rumor mill around Twelve that didn’t have to do with tragedy. Still, I found the subject of the baker bothering me as I continued eating my stew.</p>
<p>“Do you know what they’re talking about?” I asked Sae. “About the baker, I mean.”</p>
<p>“Mellark?” Sae confirmed. I nodded. “No. But usually I see one of his kids sniffing around here, like all them townies sometimes do, looking for scraps. Haven't even seen them this week, though. Why?”</p>
<p>I wasn’t quite sure how to respond. Why <em>did</em> I care?</p>
<p>The Mellarks were merchant. I was Seam. Rarely did one concern the other, except in business. My curiosity, I figured out, must have been because of my regular business with the bakery.</p>
<p>“I usually give him one of my squirrels,” I explained. “He likes them.”</p>
<p>“Hmm,” Sae hummed. “He might not be taking today, if he's not running the till.” Then a gleam sparkled in her eye. “Want to share it with me? It would thicken the stew.”</p>
<p>“No, no,” I waved her off, “I might just take it home, if the bakery doesn't take it. Prim could use the meat. But I'll still check on my way home.”</p>
<p>“Alright,” Sae said, “Fair. You bring me another one tomorrow though, if Mellark’s not trading?”</p>
<p>“Sure.”</p>
<p>“Good. Tell him I said hi if you see him. And tell that handsome friend of yours, too.” She meant Gale, my closest friend and hunting partner.</p>
<p>“Sure thing,” I agreed, before finishing my stew and making my way to the bakery.</p>
<p>Before I even set foot on the back step, I heard a shrill shout—most likely Idalia Mellark—followed by a slam. The baker’s wife had never liked me for my origin on the opposite side of the district. I considered whether to still try to trade, and was deciding to head for home when the back door opened, and one of the baker’s sons stepped out.</p>
<p>The lanky set of his shoulders and tall frame immediately revealed him to be the middle Mellark boy, Auric. He pulled up short at the sight of me, a trash sack slung over his shoulder.</p>
<p>"Oh, sorry, we’re closed today...” he began, tightening his grip on the sack.</p>
<p>“I know, I heard, I just…” In answer, I pulled out the squirrel. “I usually do business with your father. But I understand if you’re unable or unwilling. I heard he’s not well.”</p>
<p>“Yes. He’s sick this week.” Auric squinted in recognition at the squirrel. "You're the girl Dad likes to trade with so much. It’s Everdeen, right?"</p>
<p>“That’s right.”</p>
<p>Auric seemed to consider the prospect of the trade. He glanced over his shoulder, back into the bakery. “And what does he usually give you?”</p>
<p>"For this smaller squirrel, just half a loaf," I answered. “Sometimes he throws in a few rejects from the day if he can spare.”</p>
<p>“Hmm.” Another look over his shoulder. "Hold on." He set the sack down and disappeared back inside the bakery. A few moments later he came back outside with a whole loaf in his hands.</p>
<p>A whole loaf. My mouth watered at the sight, the way it always did.</p>
<p>He held it out. "I hope this will do."</p>
<p>In one fluid motion, we each passed our offer to the other. I took the bread into my hands and inspected it. The loaf was baked unevenly, but still soft. Definitely a reject by Jerome’s standards, but far above mine. I’ve eaten way worse and for less. It was a more than adequate deal.</p>
<p>“Oh, it will. This is plenty,” I told Auric. “Thank you.”</p>
<p>The side of his mouth quirked up, revealing a dimple. He raised the squirrel towards me. “Thank you,” he echoed. “I’m sure this will cheer him up.”</p>
<p>Unsure of how to respond, I smiled and nodded. I averted my gaze while I packed the bread away. "I hope he feels better." I meant the sentiment.</p>
<p>"Me, too,” Auric said. “Anyway, I've got to get back inside..." He jutted a thumb over his shoulder and picked up the sack at his feet.</p>
<p>"Yes, of course." I started to back up from the back porch.</p>
<p>“I’ve got to ask,” Auric said while he passed by me, “Do you always hit them in the eye?”</p>
<p>I shrugged. “If the shot is right.”</p>
<p>“Hmm.”</p>
<p>I turned for the road while the middle Mellark son took for the trash cans. The walk through town to the Seam was a quiet one, with the miners off on Sunday, the day left for rest. The sun was just cresting the horizon as I opened my front door.</p>
<p>"Katniss? Is that you?" My mother called from the kitchen. She was hunched over a pile of herbs at the counter.</p>
<p>“Yeah. It’s me.” I made sure to take off my hunting boots before joining my mother at the small kitchen counter. I let her game bag drop off my shoulder and opened it to reveal my spoils of the day.</p>
<p>“I thought you might be Prim. She volunteered to make a few of my follow up rounds today. I told her to come get me if she needed to.”</p>
<p>“She won’t,” I said with a light chuckle.</p>
<p>My mother hummed in response. “Maybe not.” At thirteen, Prim was catching on to our mother’s healing techniques like wildfire to kindling. I doubted neither of us would be surprised if she was coaching laboring mothers on her own by the next snowfall.</p>
<p>"Is that from the bakery?" my mother asked, as I took the loaf from my bag.</p>
<p>I nodded. “One of Mellark's sons traded it to me for a squirrel.”</p>
<p>"How nice of them. I heard things have been… hard for them lately.”</p>
<p>“Yeah. Me too.”</p>
<p>My mother’s face took on an unreadable expression as she turned back to the herbs she was grinding. She looked like she wanted to say something, was about to, when a harsh pounding on the door startled her.</p>
<p>“I’ll get it,” I offered. I crossed the way, then twisted the knob as another round of frantic knocking began on the door.</p>
<p>My eyes widened at the person I found on the other side.</p>
<p>Peeta Mellark.</p>
<p>Suddenly, I wasn’t seventeen years old, fed and the main provider for my family. I was eleven. As a shiver went down my spine, I felt the cold rain and wind of that day. I was starving after my father’s death when the money ran out, when my mother was too overcome in her grief and couldn’t be bothered to find income through her haze and “sickness,” as she called it. When I was sure it was my last chance, my last day—</p>
<p>"Katniss.” I heard my name, almost a plea, an exhale, on his lips.</p>
<p>I blinked, and the memory cleared.</p>
<p>"Peeta," I said.</p>
<p>I was just at the bakery. What could he be doing here now?</p>
<p>"Is your mother home?" Peeta cut my thoughts off.</p>
<p>"My mother?" I echoed, before, "Yeah, she is. Wh—"</p>
<p>"—I need her to come to the bakery," Peeta interrupted, and the longer he stood there, peeking over my shoulder, the longer I looked at him. And I recognized the wild panic in his eyes, how flushed and winded he was, how disheveled his usually well-kept curls were on his head. He must have run here.</p>
<p>And the reason why must be bad.</p>
<p>Is it his father?</p>
<p>"Of course," I said, then backed up a step in the doorway, calling for my mother. "Come in." I opened the door wider to allow Peeta into the small shack house.</p>
<p>He followed me inside, and I shut the door behind him. My mother appeared from the kitchen then, and locked eyes with Peeta.</p>
<p>"What is it, Peeta?"</p>
<p>Before I could answer, Peeta did.</p>
<p>"I need your help, Ms. Everdeen. It's my dad.” There was a hitch in his breath that broke the word <em>dad</em>. “It’s bad."</p>
<p>I caught my mother’s unreadable expression from before, but this time it was laced with shock and concern as it flashed across her face. “Let me get my supplies.” Over her shoulder, she said to me, “Katniss, I’ll need your help. Will you write a note for Prim?”</p>
<p>I nodded, then swallowed hard. I wasn’t the healer my sister was. I was the one to run to the woods for solace when my mother would treat the worse off patients.</p>
<p>I tried to tame my fast-paced heart, tried to mask my doe in headlights face that I knew I wore, while I grabbed my boots and scribbled out an explanation for Prim on a piece of scrap paper. When I was done, I left it on the kitchen counter, next to the loaf of bread.</p>
<p>My gaze flitted over to Peeta, who stood near the door, fidgeting with his hands. He looked up, and for a second, we locked eyes. His worried blue on my grey. The weight of awkward silence held between us.</p>
<p>I ducked my head. <em>Pull it together</em>. My eyes landed again on the bread. A debt still standing between us. I hadn’t thanked him, and now was not the time. Maybe there would never be a right time. I’d had five years to do it before now. And besides, he probably didn’t remember, even if I would never forget.</p>
<p>Finally, my mother emerged with a case of vials and a small box of tools. She handed the latter to me and said, “Let’s go. If we hurry, we can make it before dark.”</p>
<p>She and Peeta headed outside, but I remained rooted in place, my eyes on the loaf of bread. Why had I gone to the bakery, today of all days? It served as a reminder, even more so than Peeta’s presence in my home. I felt like I was stuck, half in the flashback, half in the present.</p>
<p>It wasn’t until my mother called for me that I snapped out of it.</p>
<p>I refused to make eye contact with Peeta the whole walk over.</p>
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